


Mission Impeccable

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-25
Updated: 2001-08-25
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "I think I'm falling in love with my assistant and that can't be good."





	1. Mission Impeccable

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

   


 

**Mission Impeccable**

**by: Cath**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, Sam, Ainsley  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, Sam/Ainsley  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** "I think I'm falling in love with my assistant and that can't be good."  
**Author's Note:** had this line in my head and no idea what to do with it, so I wrote and it turned out to be this insanity... There is no plot, just fun and frolics with alcohol. More to come in Ex Post Facto soon to those who are waiting. And if anyone's dubious about the ability to get this drunk after so few beers, I will assure you that it is possible. Sometimes I impress myself with my inability to be able to drink alcohol... 

_"You call it madness, but I call it love."  
\- Don Byas _

"If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure."  
\- George W Bush 

It occurred to me the other day that I spend almost my entire life at work. Not that it's a problem, I mean, I love my work, but sometimes I go home (when I actually manage to go home) and think that maybe there's more to life. 

Of course, usually I'm about 3 beers worse off about this time and I'm also considering the possibility that there are aliens in my apartment, just so small that I can't see them. I can tell you - that's never a very good idea to have when you're drunk. Once I phoned Sam at about two in the morning and asked for a magnifying glass (although I think it was a 'glass thing so I can see the aliens') Obviously Sam hung up on me. And Donna wasn't much more interested in my alien theories, either. Especially since I started trying to convince her that it was a government conspiracy. She was quick to remind me that I am part of the government and so I was probably involved in any conspiracy that they had going on. Took me a while to think about that one. 

Anyway, so I'm spending all my time at work, and I've not had any...y'know...in months. I didn't even make it to first base with Joey and she's been the only woman that has shown any interest in the past year. It's not looking good, not good at all. 

Which leads me to this bar that I'm currently in with Sam. Sam is also woman-less and isn't any more happy about it than I am. We also invited CJ, Donna, Ainsley and Toby, but the girls haven't turned up yet, and Toby informed us that as much fun as watching our 'inevitable humiliation' would be, he'd rather stay in and do some real work. CJ, Donna and Ainsley don't know the plan yet. In fact it's all Sam's fault that they were invited at all. I certainly didn't want them to join us, I mean, how can we hit on girls if they're here with us, but Sam asked them before I shared the plan with him. The new plan is to get rid of the girls somewhere (possibly pay some guys to take them away?) and then Sam and I can go round and do our best. I'm considering a 'Top Gun' type routine, but there's no microphone lying around and Sam is refusing to help me. Maybe after a few drinks he'll be more receptive to the idea. 

But hey, I'm a man, a man with a plan. A man on a mission, if you will. 

The bar is quite full since it's a Friday night and so Sam and I have to basically force our way through the crowds, elbowing people left and right and causing them to spill drinks in order to get from the bar to the only free table in the place. We narrowly beat a group of guys in suits that now look really pissed off with us. 

So let the mission commence. 

We really need a name for the evening, though. 'Josh and Sam's mission to go and find someone nice to date' (JASMTGAFSNTD for short) isn't really all that catchy, and it's the best I've come up with in the last few hours. Yes, I did work thank you very much. And very important work it was too. Sam's the speechwriter - he should have some better ideas. 

"Sam, we need a name for the mission." I tell him, taking a mouthful of the beer in order to get some inspiration. 

"Mission?" He asks. 

"Yeah, the mission for us to try and attract some female attention tonight." I inform him. "So, a name." 

"A name. Hmm." He says thoughtfully. I'll let him think about that for a while. And I'll do some of my own thinking. 

Mission Impossible? No, 'cause it's not going to be impossible. 

Mission... I'm trying to think of all the words I can think of that begin 'im' 'cause I think that it would sound quite catchy, what with the play on the impossible theme. All I can think of is imbecile, which really isn't true. Mission Impervious? Somehow I think not. Mission Importune. Could possibly turn out that way, but I'm not liking it as a name. Mission Impress. Now that's not so bad. But not, well, it's not so catchy. Mission Impeccable. I'm thinking that could be the one. It's a faultless mission - it's impeccable. I like it. 

"Mission Impeccable." I tell Sam. 

"That's good. I was thinking more along the lines of 'quest for companionship', but yours is probably easier to remember when drunk." He says. 

Mission Impeccable. It's a good name. Damn, I'm good. And I've still got half a beer left. 

Let's implement Mission Impeccable. 

So Sam and I sit round and peruse the 'talent'. And might I say that there is really quite a lot out there this evening. I gulp my beer, noticing out the corner of my eye some women pushing their way towards our table. This could be our lucky night. They're headed right for us, and the blonde one in the blue dress is particularly stunning. 

Oh, that would be my assistant. 

Let's just ignore that momentary lapse in judgement, okay? 

I mean, there's nothing wrong with my assistant, nothing at all, in fact, she's a very attractive woman. However there is the minor tiny little problem - she's my assistant. I really don't want Leo or the President, or indeed CJ to be lecturing me on sexual harassment policies in the White House. No, thank you. 

"It really is quite busy tonight." Ainsley helpfully informs us as she sits down beside Sam. 

More chance to pull the mission off successfully. However I do think that it would be more helpful if the girls weren't with us. And it would be still more helpful if Donna wasn't sitting close up to me looking quite, well, extremely attractive. Still, I'm on a mission, and I never fail. Donna will not get in my way. Not even in that delectable blue dress that she is wearing. 

Anyway, off subject. There are some really very attractive women here and surely one of them would be more than delighted to give me their number. Or maybe more. 

"Why don't I go and get you ladies some drinks." Sam offers. Whilst looking at Ainsley. Hmm, he's not going to back down on our mission, is he? I'll have to talk to him later about that one. The girls order their drinks, and I ask Sam for another beer. He wanders off, Ainsley in tow. Apparently to help him carry the drinks. Hmph. I really think he's going to back down on the mission. For a Republican. Not that she's a bad Republican, in fact she's the nicest one I know, but that doesn't make it all right. 

"So where's Toby?" CJ asks. 

"He decided he had better things to do than to socialise with us." I explain, not at all bitter. "He's getting too old for the bar scene." I say. Ha, take that Toby. 

I drink some more beer. I can sense Donna giving me a disapproving look. I don't care. She's not going to get in my way tonight. Really. I'm a grown man. I can live my own social life without assistance from my assistant. Although if she were to, for example, grab me and kiss me and tell me to abandon the mission, and tell me she's all I need, then, I wouldn't object exactly. CJ might, but if Donna was kissing me, I couldn't really give a damn about CJ. However it's not going to happen. For one reason being that Donna doesn't know about the mission (unless Sam leaked it to her, which could have happened). And also since, well, it would be inappropriate. So I'm going to continue with my mission and I will succeed. 

I'm going to get drunk regardless, however. 

Sam and Ainsley return sometime later, however not quickly enough for me to escape the excruciating conversation that Donna and CJ have started about Carol's current boyfriend. Neither of them likes him and they don't want to tell Carol. Apparently he never returns phone calls, rarely spends any time with her since he's busy with his dog training school (what a dork), has never once given her flowers or any gift and just has this weird vibe (which Donna describes as creepy). 

Come on, for God's sake, they're grown women, are they not over this by now. In fact, since I've had to listen to all this guy's faults, I might just go tell her tomorrow myself. If it weren't for the fact that tomorrow is Saturday, that is. 

Women - who understands them? If I don't like my friend's girlfriend, I'd tell him. Or make fun of him. Either really. 

So anyway, Sam and Ainsley return and so CJ and Donna are too preoccupied with their drinks to further the conversation. Or so I thought. However they strike it up again, asking Ainsley's advice (who agrees with the creepy assessment) and even Sam joins in. So I just drink my way quite quickly through the end of my first beer and all the way through the second within about 30 minutes. Which is my problem, really. I'm blaming all the rest of the evening on Carol's creepy boyfriend. 

Then I go to the bar again (they're now talking about how much they prefer Jennifer Aniston's new haircut, which Sam only witnessed for the first time the other day) and stand there a while in the queue. I order my third beer of the night, and then get a fourth as well, with two for Sam as there's an offer on. However I quickly decide that there is no way that I am going to be able to carry four bottles of beer, so one has to be drunk at the bar. So I stand there a while, which is where I meet this very attractive woman whom introduces herself as Carrie. At least I'm assuming that she's attractive, I'm quite drunk at this time. But I don't argue as she flirts with me. And I flirt back. Or try my very best to. I'm not sure I succeed as I'm having some difficulty forming coherent sentences. 

Mission Impeccable seems to be working. She has to lean close to me as she speaks as it's very loud and we're having trouble hearing one another. But even as I take in a breath of her almost overwhelming perfume I consider that maybe I want to abandon the mission. The perfume isn't right, for one, and although she seems to be a very nice person, it's just not right. She's just not...Donna. I'm drunk, okay. The whole ignoring Donna's charms doesn't seem to work as well after a couple of beers. 

And then Donna herself turns up at the bar, and I know she doesn't see me, but it doesn't matter. I can't help but look at her and completely ignore Carrie as Donna talks and laughs with the barman as she orders her drinks. I'm entranced. 

And - I'm blaming this on the alcohol, okay - I can't think of anyone else that I'd rather be with at that moment in time. And I decide to go talk to her. However I'm holding three bottles of beer (the other one got finished, or forgotten about) and Carrie is still leaning into me, and in ignoring her I walk straight into her and spill copious amounts of alcohol down the front of her top. 

Needless to say, she's not impressed. In fact insane, deranged, and psychotic seem to come to mind. Or they would if I were less inebriated. And she decides to make a scene. Right in the middle of the bar, where even the loud chattering of people and music piping up in the background doesn't seem to be able to cover up the noise. 

And when people stop talking to look over at what is happening at the bar (i.e. mad crazy lady yelling obscene things and flinging her arms round in trying to make her point) it doesn't do much for the lack of embarrassment. And so I state my sincerest apologies, and try to slink away, managing to trip up over her feet (which I am sure she put there on purpose) land on my ass and look like a complete imbecile. Yes, Mission Imbecile has now commenced. Round up, round up: only fifty cents to watch this amazing display of inadequacy. 

Really, even in my vaguely alcoholic state, all I'd like to do is curl up in a little ball and let the ground swallow me up. So I curl up in the ball and I pray to the God that I haven't spoken to in years, but he's enjoying himself far too much and so no miracle occurs. Then I look up. Perhaps God has taken pity on me after all for my guardian angel has arrived. 

The crazy lady has gone, and Donna's stood over me. She crouches down and helps me up onto my feet, and it's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me in a long time. She checks I'm okay, grabs the bottles of beer off the floor (amazingly they didn't break, and there's even some beer left in them) and guides me back to the table. Where the others ask what happened. 

They'd heard the crazy lady shouting and were wondering what was going on. Especially since the whole bar went silent whilst she was on her rampage. 

"Crazy lady." I say eloquently. "Went mad. Scary. Tripped." Yes, the ability to form sentences has been reduced somewhat. 

They find this most amusing to find out that the yelling was for my benefit. CJ is slightly more dubious, however. "She's not going to tell the press, is she? Or try to bring a lawsuit for harassment?" 

I shake my head. "Didn't tell her my name." 

CJ then proceeds to laugh at my expense knowing that her job probably won't be any more stressful because I can't hit on women very well. I have such supportive friends. Donna, however, has pity on me and tells them all to be nicer to me. I'm not sure what she wants. 

She puts her arm around me in a supportive act, and I smile just a little too much. I then drink more beer. In fact I even drink the mostly-full bottles that were going to be for Sam. Which is not the best thing to have done, I later decide. 

However I'm still with it enough to notice that Sam and Ainsley are quite deep in conversation and ignoring the rest of us. I decide to put an end to this. "You abandoned the mission for a republican." I accuse him. 

Sam shoots me an evil look, but hey, at least he was paying attention to the fact that other people were at the table. 

"Mission?" Donna asks inquisitively. 

"Mission Impossible." I proudly announce, then realise I got it wrong. "Imbecile." I correct, but I'm not sure I got the right word. "Impervious." I change. What the hell was the name of the mission? I've completely forgotten. So much for Sam saying we'd remember when drunk. I can remember the name of his girly named mission. "Mission Impeccable." I finally remember, and shout it out triumphantly, Donna and CJ giving me strange looks, Sam and Ainsley are in their own little world ignoring us. 

"Mission impeccable?" Donna queries. Why doesn't she know what I'm saying? I gave up on it for her, surely she should understand. 

"The mission." I insist. 

"The mission?" CJ asks dubiously. "What might this mission entail?" I think she's humouring me, but I don't care. 

"Hit women." I say, slightly ashamed since I don't think CJ will approve and I didn't really want Donna to know. Although I'm sure Sam already told her. Or was that a dream? 

CJ gives me a look of, well, I'll tell you when I figure it out. 

"Hit women?" She asks, and looks as though she's about to hit me. 

"Hit _on_ women." I correct. "Haven't had girlfriend in years." I tell her. 

"And you thought the best way to go about it was to hit on women in a bar under the pretence that it was a _mission_?" CJ does not comprehend obviously. 

Donna, well, I don't know about Donna. She's sitting next to me so I can't see her face. 

"Yes?" I ask. I'm not sure whether I understand the question. 

She then hits me over the head. CJ that is - not Donna. Donna wouldn't do that - she's nice. 

"Josh, you idiot." CJ tells me, and I don't get what I've done wrong. Oh well, I probably deserved it. I'm usually doing things wrong without realising. 

"Sorry Donna." I say, and I'm not sure why, but I've got to let her know that I stopped for her. "Aborted mission. Scary woman wasn't you." I tell her. 

"Umm, thanks Josh." She says and I think she might be upset with me, but I look at her and she's smiling widely at me, so I know everything's okay with us. 

CJ just looks at us, before going back to her drink. Sam and Ainsley are still ignoring us, and they're getting awfully close. I want close. They're debating something, but they're both smiling and not being at all argumentative. I think there's something going on there. I ask CJ. 

"What's with them?" I ask, pointing at Sam and Ainsley. 

CJ doesn't reply, but gives me an almost sympathetic look. 

"What's with them?" I ask again, I want to know. No one's telling me anything. I want to know. 

"Josh, they're just friends." Donna tells me, smiling, and in a voice that one might use for a child. I don't care. She's being nicer than CJ. I shoot CJ an evil glare just to let her know what I think of her. She ignores me and drinks away. 

"That's not friends." I tell Donna in case she doesn't know. I lower my voice to a whisper. "They're trying to be like us." I tell her. I think she understands now. I notice then that her arm is still around me. That makes me happy. 

CJ decides then that she wants to go for a bathroom break, and that for some inexplicable reason Ainsley and Donna both have to go with her. Sam looks slightly distraught at this, and I know I feel dismayed. They're leaving us. I don't stop them though, if they have to go to the bathroom, I'm not going to stand in their way. Or sway in their way. I'm sure I could probably stand. So I try it after the girls leave. I almost fall into Sam's lap. I won't be trying that again for a while. 

"What's with you and the republican?" I ask Sam as soon as I manage to sit up again. 

Sam looks embarrassed almost. "Nothing." He assures me. "We're just friends." 

"That's what Donna said." I say proudly. Although I'm not sure why, because Donna was wrong. "But I think it's more than that. You're trying to be me." I tell him. But I don't think he understands as well as Donna did. I've not got the psychotic thing with Sam that I've got with Donna. 

"Josh, how much have you had to drink?" He asks me. He's avoiding the question. And I tell him so. 

"What's with you and Ainsley?" I ask again. 

"I don't know." He finally admits. "Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Hopefully something, but I'll find out and tell you when I know, okay?" 

I smile. That's good. Sam's going to tell me when he figures things out. I ought to tell him something in return for being honest with me. 

"Sam." I call to get his attention. 

"Yeah?" He asks. 

"I'll tell you something." I'm not sure what though, yet. 

"What?" He asks. 

Then I know it. And I whisper loudly to him. "I've got a problem. I think I'm falling in love with my assistant and that can't be good." I tell him. I hope he can help me. 

I don't think he knows what to say. He sits there and looks like a fish as he opens his mouth and then closes it again several times. 

"It could be good." He says eventually. I don't think he knew exactly what part of my declaration to respond to and I find that amusing. I don't think I'll find any of this amusing in the morning. 

Then the girls return, and Sam keeps looking backwards and forwards between Donna and me. Again, this is completely hilarious for reasons not completely understood. Perhaps it's something to do with the five-ish beers that I've drunk. 

And then, oh my god, I feel so ill. I sit silent for a while hoping that it'll pass. But it doesn't. 

"Donnatella." I call out to everyone. Well, Donna specifically, but if she doesn't hear me hopefully it'll get someone's attention. "Wanna throw up." I tell her as I struggle to get up and run past her. She too stands up, apologises to everyone else for my behaviour, and then guides me to the bathroom. 

We only just make it into the stall and my head directed over the bowl before I make good on my promise, and what I am sure is the entire contents of my stomach empties into the toilet. 

Although it can't be the entire contents as this is repeated several times. 

Donna rubs my back soothingly and tells me that I should have listened to her earlier and not drank so much. Okay, take me back a few hours and I'll willingly do as she says. In fact, I'm never going to drink again; I'll always do what she tells me, as she is wiser than I am. 

Keep in mind the five or six beers that I've consumed at this time, please. 

After I'm done, we sit there a while, just to make sure I'm not going for a repeat performance, and it occurs to me that one of us is in the wrong bathroom. And as I see women walk by and stare at me, I'm beginning to think it's me. I really should have looked at the sign on the door before entering. Oh well, I'm too drunk and already far too humiliated to actually care about this. I'm not even going to think about what I've done already this evening. 

Had crazy lady yell at me in front of hundreds of people. 

Am not going to think about it. 

Tripped over, landed on my ass, in front of hundreds of people, and probably some republicans. 

Not going to think about it. 

Told Sam that I thought I was falling for Donna. 

Oh dear God, please say he forgets that one. Not going to obsess, not going to obsess. 

No, I'm going to throw up instead. 

This is not a good night for me. 

After about the sixth time, I tell Donna I'm done and then walk over to the wash basins with her help and attempt to make myself look a bit more presentable. 

Did you know that throwing cold water over your face (and the floor...) does almost nothing for your appearance but make you look like a drowned rat? 

"You look fine." Donna insists, however, so I'll believe her. She wouldn't lie to me. 

"Go home?" I ask. She nods, but tells me that first we have to go collect our coats from the table. 

We get back to the table to find CJ has gone somewhere and Ainsley and Sam look slightly embarrassed. Donna is trying not to smile and I have no idea why, because I'm still feeling a bit queasy and in addition to that the room isn't staying put, so I've been putting all my concentration into walking. I'll ask Donna later. But for now I'm just going to try and walk without falling over or throwing up again. 

I don't remember walking out of the bar, but here I am, standing and waiting for a cab and Donna's with me, holding my coat. 

Suddenly, I'm in a taxi, and Donna's climbing in and I'm trying to tell the cab driver where I live, but I don't remember. Well, I do, but I can't actually put it into words. So I tell him "Home." Donna translates, I think. Or did she say her apartment. I don't know - I'm just trying to not throw up in here. 

Donna holds me close the whole ride, supporting me as I try to fall left and right as the cab changes direction. But she doesn't let me fall. 

And then we're back at my apartment, I'm over the whole 'throw up' phase, now I'm just really sleepy and keeping my eyes open is a struggle. I think we pay the cab driver (or at least somewhere in the back of my mind I'm hoping we did) and he drives off leaving Donna and I standing on the sidewalk. 

"Do you know where your keys are?" Donna asks, or it could have been 'do you know how the bees are?' I'm just going to use my superior intellect to deduct that it was the former. I shake my head in an exaggerated motion, slowly left and right, and so Donna has to pat me down until she hears a jingle of the keys. She delves into my coat pocket and removes them, and supports me in my standing position, helping me slowly walk to the door. 

We eventually make it in and up the two flights of stairs, and into the apartment. Where I promptly collapse on the bed after Donna prevented me from sitting on the couch. She helps me take off my shoes, jacket, shirt and pants, and then puts me under the covers. 

Then she wishes me a goodnight and starts to leave. 

"Stay on couch, don't want you on streets." I tiredly mumble my way through. 

She hesitates for a second. "As long as it's not so I can hold your hand whilst you throw up some more." She tells me, and I think she's joking, but who knows. 

"Not going to throw up. Going to sleep." I tell her. 

"Okay then." She agrees sometime later. And starts to leave again. 

"Love you." I tell her, and I mean it. 

"I'm sure you do." She replies, but I don't think she's being serious. 

"I do love you. You're my best friend. Better than Sam. Will always love you." I tell her in my drunken daze, but that doesn't negate what I'm saying. 

"I love you too." She tells me, coming closer to me, and kisses me on the forehead. "But tell me when you're sober and I might believe you." She says. And I make a mental promise to her to do just that. She then leaves the room, and I feel a bit lonely. But then I remember what she said, and I smile as I fall asleep within minutes. 

The next morning I wake up with a terrible headache, feeling really ill with a horrible taste in my mouth and an almost insatiable need to drink liquids. 

I remember nothing of the night before, and I only hope that I didn't embarrass myself too much, or say anything stupid. 

I eventually get out of bed, not even bothering to turn on the lights, and walk into the kitchen where I get myself a glass of water. 

I then see the red light on my answering machine flashing, and I realise that I must have completely slept through the phone's ringing. I press the grey button and wait until the messages begin. 

"Hey Josh - its Sam. Just calling to see how you are. Hope you're not too hung-over. I don't know how much of last night you remember, but *cough* nothing happened okay? And if you recollect anything, I wrote down what you told me. Just to let you know. Maybe I'll see you later. Okay, bye." 

"Josh? It's Donna. You should be up by now. Josh? JOSHUA? Get up! You better be up soon. Sorry I didn't tell you when I was going, but you were fast asleep. Okay, you really should be at work soon. I'll see you later." 

"The woman hasn't told the papers, you'll be happy to know. Hope your hangover is very painful. I'll be talking to you later." 

And I'm left wondering, what the hell did I tell Sam, why was Donna leaving my place earlier, and who in the hell would be wanting to tell the newspapers about me. 

I don't think the mission was successful, either. 

Oh well, maybe I'll have better luck next time. And I hope to God that someone tells me what I was up to last night. 

Although I'm not so sure I really want to know. 


	2. Mission Impeccable 2

 

**Mission Impeccable**

**by: Cath**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, Sam, Ainsley  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, Sam/Ainsley  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** : "Did I do something wrong in a previous life to make God really hate me?"  
**Author's Note:** More plotless J/D musings, sequel to Mission Impeccable. Teensy weensy bit of A/S as well. Not much, though. I wasn't planning on writing a sequel to 'Mission Impeccable' but a couple of people asked for one and so I gave it some thought. And then at about 1:30 this morning I woke up and these ideas were floating around in my head and were refusing to let me sleep till I'd written them down somewhere. So if it really is strange and more plotless than ever before, there's a reason for that, my 1:30 muse isn't always a reliable source of info... 

_"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."  
\- Albert Einstein _

"In politics, stupidity is not a handicap"  
\- Napoleon Bonaparte 

"I hope the ambitious realise that they are more likely to succeed with success as opposed to failure. "   
\- George Bush - current US president 

It's been a couple of weeks since the bar and I still don't know what happened. I'm thinking that I didn't do anything embarrassing or stupid because Sam, Ainsley, CJ and Donna have refrained from teased me even once about anything. Apart from those answer machine messages that they gave me, that is, but I'm beginning to think that they were just winding me up. 

I mean, come on, who would want to go to the papers and report a story about my behaviour in bar? CJ really can be quite funny sometimes. 

At least, I'm still trying to convince myself of all this, but I vaguely remember sitting on my ass in the middle of a bar with people sitting and pointing at me. Although this could be a dream, I'm not sure. 

Anyway, today has all the trademarks of it being a good day. Probably not going to remain that way, but it's at least trying to fool me into thinking it's going to be good. I even made it in on time and am fairly awake (that nice coffee Donna's not going to bring me would go far to wake me up completely, but after years of arguing over it, I know it's not going to happen). 

I walk past Donna's desk on the way into my office and she stands up greeting me with my daily schedule. It's really a good day, only one actual meeting (with Joey Lucas, wahey. I think. Although I'm not sure... Is this a good thing...) and then I'm free. Well, free to prepare for some bills that are coming up as well as some meetings I'm having over the next week that are actually important. Not that parts of my job aren't important, I'm Deputy Chief of Staff for the White House, every little thing I do from going on TV to discuss issues of the day to my grocery shopping is important. But admittedly, some things take precedence. And this meeting with Joey Lucas doesn't seem to be that important, although it could do a hell of a lot for my social life. 

So I'm sat in my office, and I'm getting quite bored. Which I shouldn't be since I'm a very important person with a very important job, so I think today I'm going to try and figure out how to use my computer. In fact, mastering the internet is what I'm going to do today. I can already use emails (Donna gave me a tutorial on them a few years back) so being able to actually use the internet seems like a good idea. Well, it beats trying to write left handed with my pens (I'm actually very good at writing Donnatella Moss with my black biro using my left hand...) which I'm sure is a useful skill, but doesn't require much day to day use in the West Wing. Maybe we should implement a bill saying that children should learn to write with both hands in case one is... cut off or something. Yeah, it could be called the Josh Lyman Bill, and it would help children relate to the minority - left-handers and ambe...ambo... both handed people. 

But anyway, back to the really important stuff - learning how to make sense of the internet. 

So, I click on the internet icon, and... nothing. Okay, why isn't it working? Really? Help! 

"Donna!" I call out in my very soft voice that I often use to get people's attention. 

She turns up in my doorway. "What?" She asks. And not very kindly either. 

"It's not working. I'm stuck on the first page." 

I'm rewarded with a blank look and think that maybe I should explain myself a bit better. 

"I'm going to use the internet." I tell her proudly. She doesn't seem particularly impressed. 

"And you're going to distract me from my work until I explain how to use it?" She asks. 

"Well, not if you've got more important things to be done..." I tell her in my most unimpressed voice. 

"Fine. Fine, I'll help you. Maybe I'll have less things to do if you can learn to do them yourself." She tells me, walking round to my side of the desk. 

"I'm clicking on this and nothing's happening." I tell her. 

"Because you need to log on first." She tells me patiently. 

Twenty minutes later we've got the hang of it all, and I've also got a nice print out of how exactly I get onto the internet, my password and log in name, and how I look for things I want to find. 

I stick it to the wall behind the screen. Donna goes back to her desk, and I start to surf. 

So, what can I search for? Let's think. Well, I could look up information on the new green bill that we're going to put to congress, or how about something on that TV programme I watched last night on the Salem Witch Trials (complete chance that it was on when I happened to turn on my TV... really. I had no idea it was going to be on. And then the remote... disappeared, and I had to watch the whole thing...) Nope, think I'm going to see if there are any internet sites about me. That sounds interesting. 

So, I go to yahoo as Donna told me and input 'Josh Lyman'. 20 seconds later I come up with 5 categories, 26 web sites and 467 web pages. Not all about me, sadly, but some are. Some just mention my name, but that's not bad. More than a lot of people could boast. In fact I might show Donna some of them. 

Yes, my fan club appear to have a whole page dedicated to me! And that picture really isn't flattering. I might email them and get them to change it. 

Then I have a brilliant idea. Let's search the web for porn. 

Oh yeah. Naked women. Oh yeah... I've not seen any in over a year, so if women want to post naked pictures of themselves all over the internet, who am I to complain? And if anyone asks, I can be doing it as research into how unsafe the internet is and how children can access inappropriate pages easily. Man, I'm good! 

So I go back to yahoo and input 'porn'. 

My, there is a LOT of pages. Hundreds and hundreds. Women, men, all sorts. 

This is interesting. 

I start to have a look at some of the pages. Research purposes, remember. There are some really quite bad pictures here. I mean bad quality. Like they've been scanned and then fuzzed over so much so the 'model' won't be recognised. 

And then I accidentally come across a page of questionable taste with men... doing stuff... to each other. And I'm trying hard not to look, but... how the hell did they manage to do that? I'm not looking, I'm not looking... 

Door opens, Donna and someone else who's not Joey enters. And it's very obvious what I'm looking at. Oh shit. 

"How the hell did they manage to do that?" Donna asks, and I'm scared at the idea that I was thinking the exact same thing. 

"That's what..." I try to say, but she interrupts. 

"This is Caroline Oakey, here about the polling thing for DC." She tells me shooting me an odd look before she then exits. I'll have to ask her about that later. But now I'm really not sure that I want to know what she's thinking about me at the moment, but I feel as though I ought to explain to Caroline. 

"I was... doing... research. Kids these days, far too influenced... The internet..." And that made not one bit of sense. It takes me a good few minutes, but I finally manage to exit the screen and then turn to Ms Oakey. 

"So, Ms Oakey, what can I do for you?" I ask her. On second looks, I'm sure I recognise her from somewhere. Maybe she's just got one of those familiar faces. Got to be it. 

"It's Carrie." She tells me curtly. Which makes her Carrie... 

"So, do you do a lot of singing?" I ask quite humorously. I'm rewarded with a scowl for my troubles. I don't think I've made a very good first impression. "Please, sit down." I invite her, rethinking my welcoming strategy. 

She does so, and then tells me her reasons for coming. "Ms Lucas has been unfortunately detained in California and so I was sent as her replacement." She says all this with such attitude, and I'm beginning to think that maybe she just doesn't like me for some personal bitchy reasons that I'll never get. I really hope that Donna comes in soon and takes her away. But then she is actually quite attractive. Carrie, that is. Although Donna is as well, but that's not important. Especially since she seems to be impervious to my charms. Carrie might be broken down. In fact the mere mention of being able to change her name from Carrie Oakey to Carrie Lyman might be incentive enough. 

So that's Mission: Impervious 2. Break down Ms Oakey here and convince her to go out to dinner. I will not have her be all Ms Attitude with me. It's not allowed. Even Mandy wasn't that bad and we had the whole history thing against us and I'm pretty sure that I've never met Carrie before today. 

We discuss the reason for her coming - something about trying to see if the public would vote for this new anti oil people bill we're putting out, and then I ask her if she'd like to join me for lunch. We have to continue discussions after lunch so it only makes sense. Or that's the way I put it. 

However she refuses, and walks out of the office, talking to Donna on her way out. And I follow soon after, maybe Donna would like to join m for lunch, and I see them talking. I don't know what they're talking about, but Donna looks as though she'd rather be a million miles away. Her body language suggests to me as if they've met before and Donna found reason to hate her, but I can't think of any reason why. Eventually she manages to get free, and then I ask Donna to lunch. She agrees to dine with me in a nearby restaurant and so we head out together. 

"Why don't you like Carrie?" I ask Donna out right. I was going to phrase it slightly better, but hey, I'm out of practice. 

"Why were you looking at gay porn?" She answers straight back. 

"Because there's been something I've been meaning to tell you..." I shoot back sarcastically, but I swear, for a minute there she looked quite scared. 

"Yes, Carrie was my lesbian lover until we split up a couple of years ago because she was far too overly obsessed with any man that I worked with. We've hated each other ever since. You'd better be on the look out." She tells me, again sarcastically. Or at least, I hope to God that it was sarcasm. Donna's straight, right? Although maybe that's the reason that she never seems to show any actual sexual interest in me. Maybe, just maybe she's gay... God, I really, really hope not. 

"Josh." She says to me, and I think my worries about her sexuality were beginning to be a little obvious. "I'm not gay, and apart from that one time when I drunkenly kissed one of my female friends, I never have been. Okay?" 

I nod that it's fine. "Not that I'd have a problem if you were." I clarify. Just in case she was worrying about telling me. And I'd not care, really. Honest. She kissed one of her friends? I'm sorry that I missed that. 

"I'm not. Believe me, I'm not." She reinforces, and I wonder what she's trying to say, but I ignore it anyway. 

"So, Carrie and you didn't seem to get on, any reason why?" I'm curious, okay? And besides, if I'm ever to accomplish this mission, then I need Donna's support. For some inexplicable reason. 

"There's nothing to it." She says, but I can see that there's more to it than she says. "We met once, she went a bit...psychotic, and so I'm just a little wary of her." She explains. But now I'm wondering where and when she met this Carrie before. I'm sure that the last time she actually made it out socially was with Sam, Ainsley, CJ and I. And I am almost sure that I didn't see Carrie there. I'm sure I'd remember if she went all psycho, wouldn't I? "So, the gay porn?" 

"Research into what kids can find on the internet these days. I'm working on a personal crusade to stop children being able to access inappropriate material." I tell her, very convincingly. 

"And the truth?" Okay, so she didn't buy it. 

"I went looking for porn and inadvertently ended up on a gay porn website." I tell her almost embarrassed. She smiles. Yes, boys and girls, I am amusing, I can make my very favourite assistant laugh at my misadventures. I am a comedy genius. 

Lunch goes without too much of a problem, except I manage to get spaghetti sauce all around my mouth and even spill some down the front of my pants. I really hope that I've got a spare set back at the office, as the stain is really quiet spectacularly good. I attempt to remove the sauce from my face (note to the wise: never eat spaghetti and sauce in a public place) but apparently do a bad job of it as Donna leans in close with her serviette and wipes gently around my face with it. 

"You missed like a whole lot. In fact, if you want my opinion, don't eat spaghetti in public again. Good thing you've got a spare pair of pants back at the office." 

She's psychic. Scarily so, however it's happened enough in the past that now I don't have to remind myself to not run off out of the restaurant, screaming "Save yourselves from the madness! She's evil! She can read the thoughts of men! She's using it for her own evil uses! She's planning on overthrowing the government!" I nearly did this once. However the fact that I was in the middle of the mess stopped me. Sam was there - I did want him to think I'd gone crazy... 

We get back to my office with time to spare until the allegedly crazy singing-badly-in-bar girl returns. So I take off my pants, hand them to Donna (who's standing on the out side) and then look around for the pair that Donna assures me is in here. 

And now I'm panicking, as I've been looking everywhere (even the bottom drawer of my desk, which you do not want to know what sort of life forms exist in there...) and nothing. Not one pair of pants. Not a single one. 

I look round the side of the door and call out to Donna, and she's not there. She's disappeared (although I must say that I recall something about her having to go to the dry cleaners to take the pants) and I'm stood here in my underwear and shirt and hope and pray that I've just not been looking hard enough. 

Then Carrie comes waltzing in, and her shriek is loud enough so that CJ, Toby, Leo and Sam quickly dash into my office to see the dead body that one would assume was there from Carrie's amount of fear. 

Sadly, there is no dead body. I'm still very much alive and very much standing here in my office in Tweetie Pie boxers. 

After everyone has had at least 20 minutes laugh out of my predicament (surely they have more important things to do?) they leave, and I see Donna standing at the door with an amused look on her face. 

"No pants?" She asks innocently. 

"No pants." I confirm. 

She laughs. A lot. And as much as I'd like to hate her for putting me in this predicament, it really is too long since I've last seen her enjoying herself as much as she is, so I merely pose for her pleasure. Or amusement. 

"You done yet?" I ask. 

She shakes her head no, and comes into my office. I quickly shut the door behind me, although I think pretty much everyone has seen me half naked now, and she manages to procure from some hidden compartment in my office a pair of pants. 

I'd laugh now, but I'm standing here in Tweetie Pie boxers, so I don't think I'm going to. She hands me the pants and I put them on, and Donna tells me that Carrie is waiting outside. 

"I'll send her in." She says. "Be careful." She warns me, and I'm not sure what for. I think I've pretty much ruined any chance that I had to complete mission impeccable 2. But I'll try. I will succeed. Or die trying. 

Okay, so maybe she's not worth that much effort, but I'll at least attempt to use my wit and suave ways to seduce her. 

"So, Carrie, I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me sometime. Is tonight okay with you?" I ask in my most charming manner. 

"Tonight? Oh, I'd love to, but I've got to go see if you can actually die from boredom. Sorry, maybe some other time." Okay, sensing some definite hostility here. It's not as if I've ever done anything to the woman, right? I decide to find out. 

"Okay, so we got off to a bad start, but there must be more reason as to why you hate me, surely? I've never done anything to you to make you act like such a bitch towards me." 

"So you call the incident in the bar nothing?" She yells. Loudly. 

"Bar? What bar? I've never met you before." I tell her. 

"I'm not mistaken, you completely embarrassed me in there, spilling beer down my top. You are the scum of the earth and I can't believe I even contemplated sleeping with you. You complete and utter ass hole. You jerk, you bastard. Go to hell!" She yells at me, punctuating her insults with hits before she storms out of my office. Yup, definitely hostile. And I so have no idea where the hell I've apparently met her before, all though there was some weird déjà vu thing almost going on there. 

Sam comes running into my office moments later. "That was the crazy psychotic lady?" He asks. "Boy, you can really choose them." He tells me, almost sympathetic. 

"Did I do something wrong in a previous life to make God really hate me?" I ask Sam. 

"Probably." He tells me. 

"Or maybe he's pissed off because you've been mistreating your assistant in this life." I hear a yell from outside the door. I walk over and close the door. 

"What crazy, psychotic lady?" I ask Sam after just thinking through what he said. Did he and Donna go out sometime and meet Carrie? 

Sam looks at me with an amused look on his face. "You really don't remember?" He asks. Umm, I'm thinking that, no, I don't remember. 

"You and Donna went out and met Carrie?" I ask, confused. 

"Actually you and Donna met Carrie, I only heard her." He says. I have absolutely no idea what the hell he's going on about. Although Carrie seemed to have some idea about it, too. Bar. Did I do something in the bar? When I was really very drunk? Is this what CJ was warning me about? 

"I've never met her before." I say slowly, although I'm beginning to come to the conclusion that I have. 

"Okay." Sam says, sitting down on the chair in front of the desk. I sit the other side. "So, you've never met her. I believe you. But remember when we went to the bar with Ainsley, CJ and Donna?" I nod, although I'm lying sort of. "What exactly did we do all night?" He asks me with a slight smirk. He's not allowed to smirk. 

"We sat around. Discussed the mission. And then we... sat around and drank some more?" I say. I'm only hoping that I'm right. 

"Well, we talked all right. However there was the time that you went to the bar. What happened there?" He asks me, and I know that he knows something, and I don't want to acknowledge what I think happened. 

"I went to the bar, and ordered a beer." I tell him proudly. 

"And then started to drunkenly hit on a lady, who suddenly went crazy and started shouted at you in the middle of the bar where you proceeded to trip over your feet and land on your ass." He says this with this fake straight mouth. I can tell he's trying not to laugh. Really trying, and barely succeeding. And I still don't remember any of the night, but I'm putting things together, little comments that people have made over the past couple of weeks, and I know it's all true. 

Now I want to hide under my desk and remain there for the better part of the millennium. I slip down as far as I can in my chair. I really don't want even Sam to see me right now. 

"Carrie was the crazy lady, wasn't she?" I conclude, and it all makes sense and I want to hit myself hard on the head and preferably knock myself out and never remember. Or go back a few weeks and hope that I don't get drunk on the bar night and completely and utterly embarrass myself. I'm a suave, political operative - I can't make a complete fool out of myself. 

"Remember our conversation afterwards?" Sam prompts me, and I know that the embarrassment of falling on my ass was by no means the end to what happened. 

"What did I say?" I ask straight out. I can't deal with not knowing any more. 

"Nothing, really. I mean, nothing completely incriminating." He informs me. "I've got it written down somewhere, thought I might need it sometime in the future, but I think I'll wait until I need blackmail material." He smirks again, and for gods sake I just want to know what I've been telling people. 

"What did I say?" I demand. 

"Only really something about falling in love with your assistant. I think you wanted me to help you since it was obviously a bit of a problem for you." 

I am literally speechless. I am without words. I told Sam what? No, I couldn't possibly have said that. He's playing with me. I am in no way infatuated with my assistant. 

"You're lying." I tell him. Because there is no way that I can allow it to be true. 

"I'm not." He tells me seriously. Okay, so now I want to kill myself, although I've got to kill Sam first so he won't go telling Donna. 

"I didn't tell her." He then says. "Just think yourself lucky that you didn't throw up on her, she followed you after you ran into the ladies room pretty fast." 

I am beyond mortified. People saw me? Donna saw me? 

"I'm just going to stay here...forever." I tell him. "You can go though." This day cannot get worse, I feel. Although now we'll have to wait for Joey Lucas to get here to help with the polling data since I don't think there's anyway that the singing crazy lady will return, besides I'd refuse to work with her if she did. 

Sam leaves, and I crawl under the desk. And sit there and hope that no one ever comes in my office again. Until they can smell the odor from the dead body, that is. And it gets too bad for anyone to work. And then maybe I can haunt the West Wing and rid it of any republicans or crazy people that come to work here in the future. 

The door opens, but I'm all right because I'm hiding underneath the desk. 

"Josh?" Donna calls out. "I know you're in here. Sam says he's sorry." 

Okay, Sam's sorry for what? For being evil to me and telling me how much I embarrassed myself? That doesn't make sense. Besides I'm not going to face Donna, or anyone else, ever again. 

"I told him not to tell you. And I did hit him round the head. CJ found it amusing, though." Donna continues. I'm not coming out, though. 

However I don't get the chance because Donna comes round my side of the desk and spots my hiding place. 

"Josh." She says from nearby, and I jump. "What the hell are you doing under the desk?" 

"Thinking." I tell her. I don't move though. 

"Okay." She says. "Okay." She repeats. "Are you going to stop thinking anytime soon?" She asks. 

"No." I say and shake my head. 

"Okay." She says again. "I'll go home then if there's nothing for me to do." She says with a smile. 

That makes me get out from under the desk. I hit my head hard in the process, though. And it really hurts. I think I've got a concussion. It's all Sam's fault. 

"I've got things for you to do." I tell her as she starts towards the door. 

"I never doubted that you did." She says and exits. 

Oh, God, did she really see me make a complete fool of myself? Nothing I can do now. I'm just going to hide in my office until everyone's left, I think. 

The rest of the day is spent hiding, avoiding people that might know (everyone) and just generally trying to keep a low profile. I go home sometime after its got dark and decide that I'm going to go and watch the Mets game and drink beer and hopefully wake up tomorrow, today having been a dream. A nightmare really. 

I get home and find that I have no beer, and so have to go out to my friendly neighbourhood store and buy some. I get a six pack, and as I'm walking home I decide that drinking alone is, well, lonely. It's always more fun to watch the game with a friend. 

So, I'm thinking, who would actually be interested in watching the Mets game and getting drunk? 

Sam. That's who. And he lives nearby, which is always a plus point. 

So I wander over to Sam's apartment, carrying the beers, and I walk to his door and knock. He opens the door a few moments later (after I knock several times more, that is) and I enter. 

"Sam, I've decided to accept your apology from earlier." I tell him. "So, how about we watch the Mets..." Suddenly I notice that Sam is not alone in his apartment. In fact, Ainsley is sat at the table wearing a very nice dress, and there's candles out and a meal in front of her, and a wine glass in her hand. I then look back over at Sam and realise that he, too, is dressed up. And I think I just interrupted something. 

"Hey Josh." Ainsley calls out to me. 

Well, this day couldn't get much more embarrassing. 

And as much as I'm intrigued as to what's going on here (Sam and Ainsley? When did this happen?) I don't really think I should stay. 

"Umm, hi Ainsley. I'm just...going to... go back home... and get drunk...on my own." I say to both Ainsley and Sam, who is still standing at the door. "Really sorry. Bye!" I apologise and walk out the door as inconspicuous as possible. 

I've got this great idea. I'm going to go home, sit on my couch, get drunk, and stay there for the rest of eternity. That way I won't have to meet anyone. I shall prevent myself from embarrassment. I shall be free from the curse! 

First I'll have to answer the damn phone. Is answering the phone allowed in this new embarrassment-free life? I'll have to think about that one. 

"Josh Lyman." I say as I press the button on my cell. 

"Josh? Where are you? I've been trying to ring you at home but there was no answer." Donna asks, almost worriedly. 

"I was just about to start a new life in hiding." I tell her cheerfully. Well, as cheerfully as I can. I'm about to be cut off from the rest of the world, how can anyone be cheerful in that situation? Maybe I could use emails, just to let people know I'm still alive. 

"Okay. But before you do that, do you want to come round and watch the Mets game?" She asks and I'd love to tell her no, as it is sure to lead to more embarrassment, however that would just be rude. 

"Sure." I tell her eagerly. "I'll be there with alcohol as soon as I can." That wasn't overly eager, was it? 

"Alcohol sounds good." She says before she hangs up. 

And so I head on over to Donna's for my last night in civilisation. Should be fun. We can get drunk together and lament over my life and lack of love life. And inability to complete the missions that I set which should be easy to attain. Second thoughts, maybe I shouldn't tell her about the last one. I mean, Carrie? Evil, crazy, psychotic, singing lady? I'd be laughed out of her apartment and told never again to grace her with my presence. Which would actually be kind of fitting since I'm never actually going to leave my apartment ever again. Seriously. I am a threat to national security. Or national sanity, either really. 

I get to Donna's apartment shortly after the call (had to take a cab, didn't I) and walk up to her front door and considering ringing the bell. However, do I really want to see her, I mean, today was a bad day, she was there, and I now know what happened (sort of) at the bar. And quite frankly I'm really very humiliated that she had to witness any of that. 

Oh, what the hell, I can get her drunk, make her do embarrassing things, and then use it as blackmail material. 

I ring the bell. And then again. And once more for good measure. 

She gets to the door with a half bottle of wine in her hand. 

"Hey Josh." She greets me, giving me a hug. She's drunk, right? Or just being really friendly? She's got to be drunk. It's the only sane explanation. Apart from the explanation whereby today was merely a huge weird nightmare that I'm having, which would also be quite reasonable. I could live with that. But I don't think it is somehow. 

I enter her apartment and quickly check for any men that she's got stashed away or entertaining. None. No women either. I'm relieved somewhat. 

She sits down on the couch and motions for me to join her. 

"Wine?" She offers, and I shake my head and point to the beers that I'm holding. 

And we drink. And watch the game. It's good - the Mets are completely thrashing their opponents. And I'm drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Life is good. 

"Carrie was a crazy lady. Why did you try to hit on her?" Donna asks. Now I know that she's drunk. But I'm getting there. Despite promises to myself that I would never drink again, I'm going to get drunk and hopefully forget everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. And maybe some before that. 

"It was the mission. Part two. Have you ever noticed how the titles of sequels are never all that original? The Godfather Part Two. Mission: Impossible 2. Can't they think of something more interesting?" It would appear that I'm talking absolute crap, which is a refreshing change. 

"Yeah, but how would you know it was the sequel if they called it something else?" Good point. I drink more as I can't think of anything else to say. Pause in conversation. "You're not gay are you?" Interesting change in conversation. 

"No. Okay, so my choice of potential dates isn't all that good, but why would you think I'm gay?" I ask. I'm obviously not drunk enough. This conversation seems to be making sense. More beers. And open the third can. 

"I was worried. You were looking at gay porn. I thought maybe you liked it." Donna says reasonably. For some reason I feel as though I have to refute this beyond all doubt. I cannot have Donna thinking I'm gay. Even if it is just the alcohol talking. 

I move in close to her, carefully grab her chin with my hand and turn her face to look in my direction. "I'm not gay." I tell her. "You don't need to worry. I'm really not gay." I say, but I'm not sure she's convinced. I drink the rest of the third beer, as I know what I'm going to do to prove it to her, it's my new mission, and I need to be more drunk. I open the fourth beer and consume some. I'm now really quite tipsy. Okay, so I'm getting fairly inebriated, so much so that what I do next is completely rational to me. I take he face in my hands again and pull her close to me and kiss her. It lasts a while, and although she seems quite surprised by it initially, we both relax into it. I eventually pull away. "If I was gay, I wouldn't have done that." I tell her, pleased with my own logic. 

She smiles. "I'm convinced." She tells me. "I didn't really think you were. I was just making sure." She says. I understand. 

I sit back against the couch, and pull her in close to me. It's very warm and that's good 'cause it's cold outside. I hope I can sleep on her couch tonight, I don't want to go outside again. 

"I went to Sam's earlier." I announce to Donna a while later. "Ainsley was there. They were all dressed up." I lean close to Donna, and whisper to her. "I think something's going on between them." 

"There is." She whispers back. "I caught them kissing at the bar." 

"Really?" I say, eyes wide. "I don't remember that. But then I don't remember anything." I inform her sadly. 

"You don't remember telling me you loved me?" She asks, pouting. 

Sam told her, didn't he? He promised he wouldn't tell her. He promised me! "Sam said he wouldn't say anything." I tell her. 

She looks at me funny. "Sam didn't tell me. You did." I did? I really don't remember that. "When I stayed over at yours. You told me you loved me. Didn't you mean it?" She looks quite upset. Of course I meant it, but she wasn't supposed to know. 

"I do love you. But I'm not supposed to tell you." I tell her conspiratorially. "People might get jealous." I'm sure that's the reason, but you can never tell. It could just be that CJ would kill me. 

"I understand. I won't tell anyone." She kisses me quickly on the lips. "I love you too." She says. "Just so you know. But don't tell anyone." 

"I won't." One day I'm going to tell her sober what I think. But for now this will do. "I'm still not gay." I tell her. There's some logic there, I'm sure. 

We lean in close to each other and watch the game, her head on my shoulder, my head on hers. 

I think we fall asleep that way. 

I wake up with a pain in my neck and a splitting headache. I still remember the humiliation that was the previous day, and I start to move when I realise that Donna is still sleeping on my shoulder. I don't want to wake her, so I just remain in the same position and watch the TV that is still on. 

I remember everything I said last night, but I'm not going to let her know that. We'll carry on in the same way as ever, pretending we don't know what's going on between us, faking that we don't know that the other feels the same way. It's the only thing we can do. The only professional thing to do. I know that I love her, not only when I'm drunk, but also when I'm sober, but I'm not going to tell her that unless I can deny knowledge of having said it. 

It's wrong, but it's the only thing I know how to do. And when she wakes, I'll remain in denial. 

She starts to move against me, and she finally stirs from her sleep. 

"Morning." She says sleepily. She spies the empty bottles of beer and wine and chooses to remain oblivious. "I don't remember, did the Mets win?" 

And I go along with it. "Probably." I say, and then prise myself away from her and feign detachment. "There's not going to be any scary polling people today, are there?" I ask, and we go back to normal. Nothing has changed, and everyone's going to tease me like hell for yesterday, and I'll have to take it. Okay, so I won't take it, I'll complain and make everyone's life miserable, but that's what everyone will expect. It's normal. 

Just remind me to tease Sam about his evening with Ainsley last night. 


	3. Mission Impeccable 3

 

**Mission Impeccable**

**by: Cath**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, Sam, Ainsley  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, Sam/Ainsley  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** "I think it would help if the words to Norwegian Wood weren't in my head."   
**Author's Note:** Yet more plotless nonsense. J/D (S/A in very small amounts, if you look close enough...) Wasn't going to bother writing any more of this series, but decided that if I could provide some small amount of distraction to those currently looking for it, it wouldn't matter if this was a lot of plotless alcoholic nothing. This will hopefully serve a purpose in that people would question my sanity, which might take their minds off the real world for a minute. May new heights of plotlessness be achieved... 

I'm currently practising my 'ill voice'. Why? Well, the minor fact that I want to avoid going into work today is the primary reason. You see, people saw me the other day whilst I embarrassed myself completely, and I'm hoping that if I don't go in today then they might forget the whole 'no pants' incident. I'm just not going to think about the fact that I was wearing Tweetie Pie boxers. From this day on I promise that I will never be too lazy to wash my clothes and so never have to compromise my integrity by having to wear boxer shorts with cartoon characters emblazoned upon them. Seriously. I am going to be 'washer of the year' at the laundry. Although having my own washing machine might actually detract from this wondrous honour somewhat. 

Plus, in addition to this embarrassment, I'm trying to avoid Sam after a particularly vivid dream that I had last night. No, not that, thank you. It was worse. I'm not going to go into details, but let's just say that it involved the Beatles singing 'Norwegian Wood' to Sam and I as we sat on a boat along a moonlit river. And the least said about that, the better. 

And so back to me practising the ill voice. I'm really quite good at it, I think. I should have been an actor. The phone rings and interrupts the latest version of 'I'm (cough) far too ill (cough) to come in today. I'll (cough) try my best to do some (cough, cough) work from home, but I think (cough) that I'm just going to sit on the couch covered in a blanket (cough) and go to sleep'. I answer in my most weak voice, only for my mother to ask me what is wrong with me, and do I need her to come to Washington with her special herbal tea (urgh) and make sure I am okay. I quickly reassure her that I am fine, but she caught me as I was just waking up, and why on earth is she phoning at 6 o'clock in the morning? 

"I'm going to this craft fair today and I was just wondering if you wanted me to pick you anything up, a birthday present or anything?" She tells me, and I can't begin to think of what the hell I might want from a craft fair. 

"I'm all right for everything at the moment, but thanks anyway." I reply warily. 

"If I see anything, I'll phone you at work then." She says. 

"Yeah, sure that would be great." I tell her, trying to get her off the phone as soon as possible. "Okay, so bye then." I say quickly, but she doesn't take the hint. 

"Do you think Donna might want something?" She asks me, as if I might know if Donna would want anything. 

"You'll have to ask her." I say logically. 

"I'll do that." She says brightly. "I'll speak to you later then." 

"Yeah, bye." She hangs up and I wonder if this day is going to get any weirder. 

The phone rings almost as soon as I put the receiver down and I answer in my normal voice, expecting that it will be my mother asking me if I want any handmade jam or whatever the hell it is that they sell at these things. 

It's Donna. "Just making sure that you were up. Wouldn't want you to be late now, would we?" 

I try to interrupt with my speech "I'm far too (cough) ill to come in..." 

"I'll see you later then." She says before hanging up. 

"I'll try my best to do some work at home, but I think I'm just going to sit on the couch with a blanket and go to sleep." I finish to the dial tone before hanging up. Guess I'm going to have to go in then, aren't I? Damn it. 

 

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me. 

And I'm going to have that damn Beatles song in my head all day, aren't I? 

I leave my apartment, close the door behind me and lock it before contemplating, as I do every day, whether I should take the stairs or the elevator. 

The elevator wins again, and I wait a minute or so before getting in, nodding briefly to the guy already standing there as he is most days, and I press the button for the ground floor, irrelevant of the fact that it is already lit up. We stop at the third floor, and a very attractive young woman who also rides with us most days gets on and also presses the ground floor button. It's a routine we all have. I have never yet spoken to these people, which is kind of weird, but I know that we will all, without doubt, press the ground floor button. The guy in the dark suit (who I've affectionately come to know as Bob, although I have no idea what his name really is) stands in the right hand back corner, the girl (Stacey) on the left hand side, gripping the rail. I've often liked to wonder about what they do in life, as well. Bob is a lawyer, divorced with two children, lives alone on the top floor. Stacey is a sales manager, working at one of the top sales firms. Her fiance is a doctor and doesn't live with her at the moment, but they're going to move in together soon. 

However, my little internal ideas are halted abruptly when the elevator comes to a sudden stop. I look up at the numbers above the door, and there aren't any. We're stuck in the elevator. 

Guess I'm going to actually find out about what these people do. We're stuck in the elevator. 

Have I mentioned that we are stuck in the elevator? And Stacey has begun to hyperventilate. This is going to be a fun ride. 

I look for and locate the emergency alarm, and nothing happens. I think this happened in a comedy programme once. Not in my life. No, no, no. I am never ever going to have negative thoughts about not going to work if this happens. 

15 minutes later, we've realised that we're stuck here. We've turned the alarm off because it was irritating as hell. It's also getting warm in here, and I'm about 5 minutes away from beginning to take off my outer layers. We're all sat on the floor, and we've still said nothing beyond some choice expletives, but Stacey is still clinging on to the railing for almost dear life, her face almost white, and I'm beginning to think that she doesn't like elevators. "Are you okay there?" 'Bob' asks her. 

Stacey looks up at him. "Umm, I don't really like elevators." She says, her voice shaking. 

"Why didn't you take the stairs?" I ask. 

She looks at me, her eyes wide. "I dislike the stairs even more." I have no reply to that. 

"Listen, why don't you calm down, breathe deep. We might be here for a while, and it would be easier if you were calm." Bob says in what I would call a reassuring voice. "Breathe in, breathe out." He says with the monotony of a hypnotist. He repeats this several times doing the actions as he speaks, and even I'm starting to join in. Breathe in, breathe out. This really is quite relaxing. Breathe in, breathe out. 

Stacey has begun to relax somewhat now, and her hands are now in Bob's rather than clutching at the bar. 

We're all still breathing in and out at the same time, and I'm beginning to feel a little silly. I still have no idea what the hell these people are called. However I'm more anxious about getting out of here, and for the first time realise that I could probably phone work and at least explain that I'm going to be late for an actual reason, and then call some engineers to get us out of here. 

My genius thinking wasn't actually all that genius it seems, as there is no signal in the dumb, stupid, stupid elevator. Hmm, I need to de-stress a little here. Breathe in, breathe out. 

 

I once had a girl or should I say she once had me. 

She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood? 

Sam and I sitting close, eating ice cream, the Beatles, the boat. 

It's all too much, I scream. 

Stacey and Bob stop breathing and look at me as though I have lost my mind, which is probably as good a diagnosis as any. 

"My cell phone isn't working." I say weakly. They thankfully seem to understand. 

"Listen, since it looks as though we're going to be stuck in here a while, why don't we get to know each other?" Bob says surprisingly cheerfully since he's stuck in an elevator with a couple of freaks. "I'm Jim and I'm a professor of biology at Georgetown University." He says in pretty much the way that I imagine people introduce themselves at AA meetings. However it's beyond me to contradict, and I go along with it. 

"See, I totally had you pegged for a Bob." Stacey comments. I look at her in surprise. That is weird and spooky. 

"I'm..." I start, but Stacey interrupts. 

"Josh Lyman, you work at the White House, Deputy Chief of Staff, right?" Would I be correct in thinking I have a fan here? Or just a nosy neighbour who likes to do reconnaissance work in her spare time? Maybe she's working for the Republicans and is trying to find out every piece of information about me so that she can bring the Government down, and that's why she's living in the same building as me. However, they already might think I've lost it, so I don't announce my fears out loud. 

"Yeah, and you are?" I ask, thinking that maybe she'll come up with some extraordinary job description in order to cover up her true identity. 

"Lauren Hayes, I work in personnel." She says, shaking my hand. "At the White House." She adds as an afterthought. She seems to have come to terms somewhat with the situation now, which is a relief. 

"You don't happen to know Ainsley, by any chance?" I ask, and she says nothing but looks at me funny. Well, I had to get all my bases covered. 

She really is a very attractive woman, I notice again. Maybe I ought to try for Mission Impeccable times three? 

Jim looks at his watch slightly concerned. "My boyfriend is really going to be worried about where I am." I totally didn't get him as being gay. It seems that Lauren didn't, either, as she looks a bit surprised. "See, we work together and we always get coffee together before we start." He explains. Well, I guess we're going to get the story of his life first then. Over 30 minutes later, I can tell you that Jim is originally from Seattle, but moved to Las Vegas at the age of 18 in order to make money to go to college. His job, well he was a male exotic dancer at a Vegas strip club. A year later he signed up for Georgetown majoring at first in chemistry, but then deciding to change to biology as chemistry was for geeks. He got a job in biological research (something to do with antibodies and micro-organisms, but I wasn't paying much attention even though he was quite excited about the whole thing) but quit a few years later as he wasn't satisfied with what he was doing. He then spent a further few years at university doing a PhD eventually getting a job at Georgetown as a lecturer. He's been there ever since and met Neil over a year back, who works in the expressive arts department. Jim seems like a really nice guy, and Lauren and I ask him several questions. All of which seem to turn to the topic of Neil (who I know more about now than I ever really needed to) and so eventually I decide that it's Lauren's turn to tell her story. 

"So, have you worked for the White House long, I don't think I've ever seen you around." I ask as an opening question. 

"I've worked there since Bartlet became president." She replies. "I'm surprised you've never seen me, I've seen you in the mess numerous times with your girlfriend." She says, and I'm just trying to think of who she's talking about. 

"You mean Mandy? She left ages ago, and we split up before we got into office." I tell her, as Mandy is about the only girlfriend that I can even think of having in the past few years. 

"No, I mean now, the tall blonde one." Tall, blonde, who? "Umm, I think her name is Deena or something similar." 

"Donna? Donna's not my girlfriend, she's my assistant." I tell her, laughing. Really, that is beyond funny. Donna and I together, who would have thought such a thing? Okay, so half the White House, but I'm not about to tell Lauren that. 

"Really? You sure?" She asks. 

"I'm reasonably sure." I say. 

"You're not even sleeping with her?" She sounds hopeful. I wonder what is going on here, and even Jim seems to find it amusing. 

"Not as far as I know, I'd remember that, I'm sure." I tell her and her face falls. 

"Okay, but could you pretend sometime when you ever see me and my friends together? Just put your arm around her, kiss her on the cheek?" What the hell is she going on about? 

"Why?" I ask suspiciously. 

"Because..." She falters. I think I liked her better when she was too nervous to talk. "Because I'd lose money if my friends found out." I look at her curiously, as does Jim. "See, we have this thing where we bet on all the people we don't know and we think are involved and if we ever meet these people we have to find out. Then we get paid if we're right, or pay out if we're wrong." I continue looking at her incredulously, saying nothing. Jim laughs. "It's really boring in personnel, okay?" She tells me in a whiny voice. And I eventually laugh at her. She really does sound quite pathetic. 

"And you do this with lots of people?" I ask. 

"Yeah, I mean, there are lots of relationships within the White House because no one has a life out of it." She explains, and I understand where she is coming from. 

"So who else do you bet on that I might know?" I query, intrigued. 

"Umm, that really cute guy, Sam Seaborn, and the blonde girl he sits with at lunch sometimes." She looks at me for confirmation. I say nothing, but smile enigmatically. "A while back we were wondering about CJ Cregg and that reporter, Danny, but we've decided against that one." She pauses to think. "That's about it." She eyes me curiously. "Are you really not going out with your assistant?" She asks again. 

"I'm really not." I tell her. 

She turns her head to look in Jim's direction. "You should see them together, really. There's a lot of sexual chemistry between them." She tells him. Perhaps I won't bother trying to ask her out, after all. 

"Am I not here?" I ask. They ignore me. 

"Maybe we should all go out together sometime so you could witness them in action." Lauren suggests. 

 

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere. 

So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair. 

The acoustic guitar; the Beatles; Sam laying his head on my shoulder. 

"No, no, no." I think I scream. Jim and Lauren certainly look quickly over to me. I try to think about what the hell they were talking about. "I just don't like people organizing my social life for me." I tell them. I think they're beginning to wonder how badly the country is off if the government is made up of people like me. 

"So you don't want to come out with us tonight then?" Lauren asks me, looking quite scared. 

"Sure, if I don't have to stay too late." I tell them. "Just I like people to ask me, is all." I say sheepishly, reinforcing my statement. 

"And you'll bring Sam?" She asks excitedly. She'll practically be bouncing up and down in a minute. 

"I'll ask him if he's free." I tell her. 

"I suppose you'll have to invite the blonde girl if Sam comes." She says. "Well, that's all right, I guess. And bring Donna, too." I promise to at least ask them all. 

We spend a further hour or so discussing both Lauren and my life stories, before arguing about important things. Like, should Jim ask Neil to move his place (Jim refuses to move into Neil's apartment) or should they both compromise and buy an apartment together elsewhere. And were the Beatles the best band ever, or not. This question was, obviously, devised by myself as an ingenious way to attempt to get rid of the song from my head. It was unsuccessful. Eventually I tell everyone my dilemma, and Jim and I end up teaching the words of Norwegian Wood to Lauren. We spend another hour bonding further when finally over 3 hours after we stopped we start to suddenly move again. 

We cheer, and Lauren and Jim jump up and down, hugging each other and I finally concede and join in. We're still jumping and hugging when the elevator doors open on the ground floor, and the engineers who are standing there look at us in amusement. 

We make an interesting sight I realise. We'd all removed some of our clothing as the heat was beginning to get to us, and we're jumping around with far too much joy, Lauren dancing almost, embracing each other. We let go of each other, and I pick up the clothes that I had removed from the floor as well as my backpack, and ask Lauren if she wants to walk with me to work. She hugs Jim one last time, thanking him for helping her get over her fear of elevators to some extent, and they finalize plans for this evening. 

Jim makes his way in the opposite direction, and I tell him that I'll hopefully see him later. Then Lauren links her arm through mine, glad to be out in the bright airy light of day, and she starts singing Norwegian Wood, and I join in as she gets some of the words wrong, and I obviously have to correct her. It's all great fun, and as we enter the White House and go our separate ways, she tells me that she's going to go boast to all her friends that she was stuck in an elevator with me for nearly four hours, as apparently they'll be jealous. She also reminds me to ask Sam, Ainsley and Donna out tonight and I nod. 

I finally get into my office a few minutes later, Donna running up to me and asking where I was. Apparently Leo would like to talk to me. I tell her about the elevator, and she finds this immensely amusing and laughs. A lot. Sam then comes into my office, also worried about where I was, and I try desperately not to think of the song whilst Donna tells him that I was trapped in an elevator. He, too finds this amusing, and tells me that Leo wants to see me as soon as I get in, i.e. now. I take the hint; Leo's going to be pissed off with me enough as it is. I say goodbye to Donna and Sam and they wish me luck, and I head off to Leo's office, singing quietly. 

 

She told me she worked in the morning 

And started to laugh 

I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath 

I reach Leo's office and pause a minute before I go in. 

I am greeted by Leo shouting at me for being late. Well, the day wouldn't be complete without this. However he continues to rant for the next ten minutes about my behaviour in public, commenting on my lack of attire in my office, my need to attempt to date every woman who I come into contact with at work and I just nod incoherently at it all. Finally he grabs a piece of paper off his desk and looks at it, in what could be interpreted as slight amusement, before proceeding. 

"You do realise that the websites that you visit on your office computer are logged by the Internet Support Staff and can be traced back to you?" He asks me, and looks at me for a while. I think he wants a response. I nod. He looks at the piece of paper again, and I'm not sure that I want to know what is on it. "So you went looking at the Joshua Lyman Fan Club Appreciation Website with this knowledge?" I say nothing, rehearsing in my head my 'I'm sorry I'm late but I was stuck in an elevator' chorus. "And you knew that the Internet Support Staff would be able to trace 'Crystal's XXX Photo Site', 'Sex Kittens Exclusive', 'The World Of Porn' websites back to your office computer?" He really is quite something to not actually laugh when saying this. He looks terribly amused, but continues to yell. "And, 'All American Male Karma Sutra'. Is there something you're not telling us, Josh?" 

"There's nothing wrong with being gay." I blurt out, thinking about Jim. This wasn't quite what I wanted to say and Leo looks shocked for a minute. 

"No, there's not." He says slowly. And I am suddenly very amused myself. I start laughing. Leo really thought I could be gay? Well, I suppose going out with Mandy can do strange things to people... 

"I'm not gay, really, I'm not." Leo looks uncertain, and I explain to him the whole story of my being trapped in an elevator with Jim and Lauren, and the practising of my internet skills, and I was just making a point. "Because we're Democrats and Democrats are allowed to be gay, but don't have to be." I finish my ramble, and Leo is doing well at suppressing his laughter at the end of it. 

"Just don't do it again." Leo warns finally. "I don't want people to start speculating that we're allowing the Senior Staff to surf the internet for sexually explicit sites in their free time." I look at him, bracing myself for more. "Go." He tells me, motioning to the door. 

I turn and walk to the door, only to find when I open it people standing outside. They all start laughing and clapping when I appear, and I am sure that when I close the door I can hear Leo laughing himself. 

"Gay porn?" Sam asks me, pausing for breath from his laughter for a second. "You went looking for gay porn?" And he starts laughing hysterically again. 

"How did you find out?" I ask him. 

"Well, apart from Leo yelling just then, he announced it in Senior Staff. He was pissed that you were late and decided to teach you a lesson." He informs me. 

And once again I ask for the earth to swallow me up. Donna follows me as I walk away from the crowd and towards my office. "I told you not to go looking at the porn." She says, a smile on her face. 

"No." I correct. "You asked why I was looking at gay porn. In no way in any of those sentences was a warning made." 

"Same difference." She tells me, shrugging. 

I spend the rest of the day going to various meetings and, for the second time this week, avoiding any one in the West Wing. Then at six o'clock Sam comes into my office. 

"What are you doing tonight?" He asks me. 

"I'm going out with some other friends who aren't going to ridicule me." I tell him. He looks shocked. 

"You have other friends?" He asks, astonished. 

"The people I was stuck in the elevator with." I inform him. "We decided to go for drinks this evening." 

"Oh." He says, and he starts to say something else but stops. 

"You can join us if you want." I say. "In fact, Lauren would be more than happy for you to come along. Overjoyed." 

He looks happy again, and then his face falls. "What about Ainsley?" He asks. 

"Bring her too." I respond. "Eight o'clock." 

"Okay." He says, and skips off merrily down to the basement. Well, skipping would be a slight exaggeration, but not much. 

I then remember that I was supposed to ask Donna as well, and so call her name. She comes in after the third time of asking. Well, yelling, I suppose. "What are you doing tonight?" I ask her. She looks confused. 

"Why?" She asks skeptically. "If it's work, I'm busy." 

"I was just wondering if you wanted to join me and some friends for a drink, but if you're busy..." I trail off. 

"If it's not work, I'm not busy." She states quickly. I smile, I thought as much. 

"Meet you here at eight o'clock then." I tell her. 

"Which friends?" She then thinks to ask. "You don't have any friends outside of work." She says as I start to exit the room. 

"You'll find out." I tell her cryptically. I don't know why, it's not as though it's a big mystery. 

We get to the bar shortly before eight thirty, and I quickly locate Jim, Lauren, and some other guy who I presume is Neil, since his arm is around Jim. 

"Hello there." I say. 

"Josh! You made it." Lauren says, throwing her arms around my neck, hugging me and kissing me on the cheek. "We were beginning to think you were going to stay at work all night." 

I then introduce everyone, as Sam, Ainsley, and Donna are looking a little lost. It turns out that the guy with Jim is indeed Neil, and we all get some drinks and sit on a table at the back. I've never actually been to this bar before but it seems quite nice, and they serve good beer. 

Everyone gets talking quickly, and I'm quite relieved to find that they all seem to get on all right. Sam tells Jim, Neil and Lauren about my recent adventures with alcohol and Carrie, work and Carrie, and the internet. Everyone finds this entirely amusing, and many jokes are had at my expense. I drink beer and ignore everyone. As obviously this had to be an alcoholic endeavor somewhere along the way. Besides I've had a stressful day, I deserve it. Everyone continues to make fun of me, most of which doesn't even involve me and so Donna proceeds to tell me that my mother phoned her several times at work asking if she wanted certain items from the craft fair. Apparently there were some good bargains there, and Donna has now got several Christmas gifts for her mother. 

"But Christmas isn't even for a few months yet." I complain. 

"So, I like to be ready, I like to have everything organised." She tells me. "I bet you don't even know what you're going to get me this year, do you?" She asks. 

"I hadn't even thought about it." I tell her truthfully. 

"Well, I'll just have to take you shopping sometime so I can show you what I want." She tells me. 

"Fine." I hold my hands up in mock surrender. 

"Or you could just buy me a plane ticket to Europe." She asks hopefully. 

"I thought you wanted to go to Hawaii?" 

"I do, but next summer I'd really like to go to Europe, and nice bosses buy things like that for their dedicated assistants." She informs me, giving me an innocent smile. 

"I'm supposed to buy my assistant a plane ticket to Europe?" Sam asks, and I then realise that everyone was listening in on our conversation. 

"I understand what you were saying earlier." Jim tells Lauren. 

"I'd never seen it up close before." Lauren says. "It's a lot more obvious." 

"No." I say emphatically. "There is nothing to understand. Nothing." I then see that Donna, Sam and Ainsley are looking expectantly at me, wondering what the hell I'm denying. I'm not going to tell them anything. Lauren, however, takes it upon herself to whisper to Sam, who nods and tells Ainsley. 

"Oh, that." Ainsley comments nonchalantly. 

"What?" Donna asks, looking at them all in turn. "What?" 

No one takes it upon themselves to explain, and I'm certainly not going to. 

"I can feel a chorus of Norwegian Wood coming on." Lauren says trying to change the subject. 

"What?" Sam asks. 

"Norwegian Wood." I mutter. 

Lauren looks over at me. "Come on, Josh, you know you want to sing it." She pushes my beer towards me. "Drink up, and then you'll want to sing." She smiles at me, but looks over at Donna. 

I get the point and so after I finish the beer, I agree that sadly, I do. With Sam, Ainsley, Neil and Donna watching and laughing hysterically, cheering us on, Jim, Lauren and I start to sing, and soon, scarily enough the whole bar is joining in. 

At the end everyone in the bar cheers, apparently used to such madness, and we all laugh together. Finally it is past eleven o'clock, and Donna taps my shoulder telling me to drink up so we can all go home to bed. 

I finish my drink, and I'm not drunk. This could be because Donna made me drink some water in between beers and made sure I didn't drink too much. 

We all stand outside and wait for a cab, Donna goes and talks to Sam and Jim while Lauren comes and talks to me. "You should ask her out." She tells me, following the direction of my focus. 

"You're still deluded into the idea that I might want to ask her out then, or that she might want to go out with me?" I question. 

"We all think that you want to ask her out and we all know that she'll say yes." She tells me. "Take a cab home with her, tell her that you don't want her to go home alone or something." I look at her. 

"And this would be because I want to cause a scandal?" I ask. 

"I think you give yourself far too much credit as to how much influence you have in the world." She says. "Look, she's got a cab, go." She pushes me towards Donna, who was saying goodbye to Jim, Neil, Sam and Ainsley. 

"Fine, fine, I'm going, but only to make you happy." She gives me another hug, and kisses me quickly. 

"Good luck." She calls out, and I shoot her an evil look. 

I walk towards Donna, where she is waiting to say goodbye to me. "You want me to make sure you get home okay?" I say as disinterested as possible. 

"You sure? You don't want to go back with Lauren?" She asks. 

"I'll take you home." I say, and so as she gets in the cab, I say goodbye to everyone else. 

We travel back to her apartment in almost silence, and I can tell that something is bothering her. We stop outside her apartment, and we sit in silence a moment longer. "Do you want to come up to make yourself some coffee?" She asks eventually, and I agree and pay the cab driver. 

We go up to her apartment and I sit on her couch until she tells me that if I want some coffee, I have to make it myself. I decide to have some water instead, as I don't know how to make coffee without the machine, and I get her a glass as well. I go back to the lounge and give her the glass, and we sit down together. 

"What's wrong?" I ask eventually, after I'm bored of looking at the patterns on the boarder around the room. 

"Nothing." She assures me. "How come you didn't go back with Lauren, I noticed you were very close." She asks me, nonchalantly. I think. 

"Jim and Neil are going back with her, you were going back alone." I'm not sure what the hell she's trying to get at here. 

"But you're going to go out with her?" She asks me, and I am beyond speechless. 

"Wh...wh...what?" I stutter. "Huh?" Where did this come from? "We're only friends." I tell her. 

"I'm just trying to encourage you to go out with her, get yourself a girlfriend." She says. 

"Like the thing with Joey." I ask. 

"Yes, like the thing with Joey." She confirms. 

"I don't want to go out with her." I tell Donna. 

"Because you're gay?" She asks, smiling. "I heard what you declared to Leo. Margaret said he was alternating between laughing hysterically and looking shocked all afternoon." 

"Not because I'm gay, although I will state for one last time, there is nothing wrong with being gay." I tell her emphatically. 

"Because of the Democratic right to be gay." She tells me, and starts laughing. "God, I wish I could have been there." 

"It really wasn't all that amusing." I tell her, but I'm grinning. 

She says nothing, but continues to laugh a few more minutes, and that damn song comes back into my head again. 

 

I once had a girl or should I say she once had me. 

She showed me her room, 

Isn't it good, Norwegian Wood. 

The pictures of Sam and the moonlit riverboat ride come back into my head, and I try to resist yelling, but I can't. Donna looks at me questioningly, and I tell her about the riverboat, the Beatles, Norwegian Wood, and the ice cream. 

"Are you sure you don't want to exercise your Democratic right?" She asks, and bursts into laughter again. 

"I'm sure." I tell her, and she suddenly stops laughing as she notices that she's got close to me, like very close. Practically kissing close and it's no longer funny, and I can't be bothered to resist any longer as we are drawn together. And we are finally sober when we kiss this time and it lasts longer than ever before and I'm not going to stop, and I'm not going to deny that there is something between us. Which is good for me. However, we eventually have to stop so we can actually breathe. 

"Well, that was different. We weren't completely drunk." She says, and looks up at me with a slight smile on her face. "So, want to try again?" She offers. "What's wrong?" She asks when she notices what is probably a very weird look on my face. 

"I think it would help if the words to Norwegian Wood weren't in my head. I keep thinking of Sam and moonlit serenades." 

"It's that damn Democratic right to be gay." She declares and we both laugh before she attacks me, holds me down and makes me kiss her again. Obviously she's too strong for me to even think about resisting. 

And I think that despite it's start, this is a good day. 

Who needs the mission when you can have this? 

Norwegian Wood  
The Beatles 

I once had a girl or should I say she once had me,  
She showed me her room isn't it good  
Norwegian wood?  
She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere  
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair  
I sat on a rug biding my time drinking her wine  
We talked until two and then she said  
It's time for bed  
She told me she worked in the morning  
And started to laugh  
I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath  
And when I awoke I was alone this bird had flown  
So I lit a fire isn't it good  
Norwegian wood? 


End file.
